Insomnia and What It Does to Me
by maddies-tiaras
Summary: Travis Clark, John O'Callaghan, and Travis's sister Shadow and what happens between them.
1. Chapter 1

"Trav, it's not like that. You know it. It's not. I swear."

"John," he sighed, shaking his head. Large locks of his red hair fell in front of his eyes, and he did the best he could to brush them back. "Look. I know you think you have it under control. And maybe you do, I don't know. But I'm just telling you that we're all really worried about you."

Something moved inside my stomach. It was cold, and it was creeping up towards my heart. I shivered and took a deep breath, trying to calm what felt like shaking in my stomach.

Travis was watching me intently, observing what I was doing. "John."

"I'm fine," I said, sounding a lot harsher than I meant to. I looked down at my hands. "I can't breathe," I muttered.

"It's okay," he said calmly, moving closer to me and putting a hand on my arm. He was still watching me closely, looking at my eyes.

I ignored him.

"John," he said after a moment, "I can see that this is bothering you-"

"What makes you say that?" I asked shakily.

"Well, to be honest, you look like you're about to have an anxiety attack."

"How would you know that?"

"Shadow," he said simply, referring to his younger sister.

"What about her?"

"She has agoraphobia."

"What the hell is that?"

He sighed wearily. Obviously he'd explained this to a million different people. "Basically she gets freaked whenever we're in open places or somewhere where there are a lot of people. She gets scared if we have to leave home for some reason." He sighed again, took his hand off my shoulder, and looked down at his bare feet, which he kicked back and forth subconsciously. "But it doesn't matter. We're not talking about her; we're talking about you."

"What if I don't want to talk about me?"

"Well that sucks, cause this is serious, John."

"What is this, some kind of intervention?"

He was quiet for a moment, thinking about what I'd asked. Then he looked me dead in the eyes.

"Yeah. Yeah, John, I guess it is."


	2. Chapter 2

Shadow

"Hey," I called as my brother Travis walked through the door. If I hadn't seen that it was him when he pulled into the driveway, I would have freaked out and probably hidden somewhere, probably my closet.

"Hola!" he replied enthusiastically, coming over to the bed to hug me. He was the only one that was allowed to touch me. Not Mom, not Dad, and I was always at home so I didn't have any friends that I'd have to stop from coming too close.

His hair fell in my face as he bent down behind me to wrap his arms around my shoulders, and I laughed.

"Mmmmmwah!" he yelled as he kissed my temple and began tickling me.

"Travis!" I shrieked, laughing hysterically. "Stop! Stop, TRAVIS!"

"Alright, alright," he chuckled. "I'm just playing." He let go of me and went to log onto the computer that lived in my room because of school. Mom was supposed to teach me, but I just couldn't handle being around her all day, so I did everything online in the dark safety of my room.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked. "You were still out when I left, so I never got to ask you."

"Ugh," I replied.

"Not good?"

I shook my head. "I think I finally managed around four. I slept till noon, I think."

He nodded thoughtfully. "They still got you on that medication?"

"Yeah, but I'm not taking it."

"Shadow!"

"What? It's not a big deal."

"You stayed up till four in the morning, and it's not worth taking whatever it is?" he asked. "Come on."

"Kava," I said.

"What?"

"Kava. The herb. It's called kava. It's basically a drug."

"Yeah, I know."

"No, it's totally addictive."

"Really?"

"Yeah, you want some?"

He was about to say yes when I narrowed my eyes at him.

"No?"

"That's what I thought."

"Well, what's in it? What does it do?"

"It's from Fiji. It's supposed to calm your nerves or something. The reason it's addictive is cause it causes euphoria, and makes you dream about good things."

"So why don't you take it? It sounds great."

I lay down on my back. "I don't know," I said, staring up at the ceiling for a moment. "It freaks me out."

I let his rhythmic typing on the keys lull me into a sort of trance. I shut my eyes and turned onto my side, getting comfortable. I listened and listened until I slipped halfway into sleep. Then, I heard him stop typing and it brought me back to earth a little more. I felt his eyes on me, but I was too tired to open mine. He went back to typing, and I knew he was finishing up because he thought I was asleep.

A few moments later, he came over to me. He stood there and looked at me, and then he left. I heard him go down the hall and get his guitar. I thought he was going to write, but I was wrong.

I heard a C chord and then the start of Secret Valentine. He was singing so softly I had to strain to hear him. I put so much energy into hearing him that I opened my eyes and stared out the open door, as if trying to see the notes float by me.

I was completely awake then, all traces of tiredness gone. His voice sounded more nasal than usual. Before he could even finish the chorus, he'd set the guitar down roughly and I heard him sniffing.

Crying? Travis?

I got up and went to the doorway. I wanted to go comfort him, but I was too afraid to step outside of my safe haven. He was so far down the hall…

"Travis?" I called quietly.

He sniffed hard and called in a clear voice, "Yeah?"

"Can you come here?"

"Hang on one second."

"I'm not deaf, Trav. Come here."

He walked slowly down the hall, wiping at his eyes. He stopped short when he saw me in the doorway. I was close enough that I could plainly see the redness in his eyes. The whole rest of his face was white, and my heart just sagged in my chest.

"What's going on?" I asked gently, taking his hand.

"Nothing," he said in a gravelly voice, roughly wiping his eyes with the back of his other hand.

He shook his head. "I can't get through to John."

"What's the problem?" I asked curiously.

"He's always-" And then he abruptly stopped talking. "Don't worry about it, Shadow. It's not a big deal."

He wandered over and sat on my bed, and I went and stood in front of him. I pulled him into a tight hug. He sniffed a few times, and then he was crying again. I just stood there, not really sure of what to do. He had never cried in front of me before, not even when we were little. He didn't even cry when he broke his arm or when his hamster died. I'd never seen him break before and it scared me.

"I wanted to go down the hall," I said. "I almost did. I was so close, Trav. I haven't wanted to leave my room for so long. But I wanted to just now."

He straightened up. "I'll go with you," he said.

I shook my head. "No, I'm scared again. I wanted to go down there for you. But I didn't know if I could make it, and I didn't want to make you feel worse."

He shook his head, smiling. He wiped at his eyes. "No. No, Shadow, I'm so proud of you. Wanting is a good start, okay? Don't give up. You have to start somewhere."

"Thanks, Trav."

"No problem," he smiled.

Then he got up and left, and it was as if none of it had ever even happened.


	3. Chapter 3

John

My left hand was shoved deep into my pocket, my right holding my lit cigarette. The ashes were warm even though it was freezing outside. I pulled my black leather jacket closer around me and sighed. I hopped up on the curb on the side of the road and started walking, one foot in front of the other.

_One foot in front of the other…_

The words stuck in my head. That was how I'd wanted to live my life. Do what I wanted, deal with the consequences later. You know, c'est la vie. Eat, drink, and be merry. I mean, come on. If I want to feel good, who's to say I can't? What are they gonna do, get the cops to arrest me again? Really.

But no, Travis Clark had to step in and ruin it. Now I know he's watching my every move. And Pat and Jared and Kennedy and Garrett are already unhappy with me. I can never catch a break.

God. What else am I supposed to do?

I think I need something stronger.

I waved the cigarette out and ground it under my tennis shoe.

I exhaled deeply, watching the breath leave my mouth and form steam in the bitter night air.

A car flew past.

I walked on.

My head was pounding, my feet were dragging. Still, I kept pushing, moving towards who-the-hell-knows-what. And I was enjoying it. There was nothing here, nothing to feel, nothing to be afraid of.

It was just me and the world.

_It's our last time to say goodnight. Don't say goodbye cause in the morning we'll see you around and then we'll sing it again; same time tomorrow, yeah, we'll all join in. _

Why is it that my own lyrics could find their way into my head to haunt me? Those were such better days. Days before I got into this mess, days when I could smile and it would show in my eyes because I honest-to-god meant it.

It's hard for even me to believe that there were days that existed before I turned to angel dust and ecstasy and LSD. It all just felt so good that once I started, there was nothing that made me feel that good in normal existence. I couldn't even really enjoy that runner's high I used to get because I knew what a true high felt like.

That was when the rain started.

Softly at first, just a few drops here and there. Then a little harder, bouncing off the pavement when it landed. And a moment later, it was pouring, the water falling so hard and fast that it may as well have been smacking a tin roof.

I could barely hear myself think anymore over the loud roar of the rain, but it was almost peaceful in a way.

There was a bridge ahead, and my mind subconsciously decided that once I got there, I was going to sit down at the edge and watch the rain fall.

And that was exactly what I did.

I sat as soon as I was no longer getting wet. I stripped off my soaked shirt and kicked off my shoes, pulling out my lighter and another cigarette. There was no one on the road, no one anywhere near me. I was free to do whatever I wanted.

So I gazed out at the torrential rain and started thinking.

Deep thinking.

You know, the kind of thinking that makes you uncomfortable and sad until you start to loathe yourself and everything about you.

I thought more about how I used to be. Wondered why I'd even gotten into it in the first place. I remembered getting arrested for the first time in Florida when the police asked me to move and I was so drunk that I couldn't process it, just knew that they weren't letting me do what I wanted, and I couldn't handle that. How scared I was when they shut the cell door. The disappointment of the fans. Reading the blogs after we performed about how I was high and how afraid they were that something was going to happen to me, that I was going to do something to myself.

I scooted back, realizing that the rain had begun to fall at an angle under the bridge and was landing on my face. A foot away and a moment later when this continued, I realized I was crying.

I stopped, reaching up to catch some of the liquid on my fingers. I pulled it down and looked at it, and then my eyes welled up with more hot tears, tears I couldn't control. They were long overdue, even for me.

My entire body was shaking, and I could hardly breathe.

I kept waiting for someone I knew to come get me, to tell me, "Come on, John. It's time to go home."

But no one came. I didn't even know if anyone knew I was gone. Hell, _I_ didn't even know where I was.

And I didn't know if I was going back.

But it didn't matter now; all that mattered was that it was raining and no one was there to watch me or judge me or criticize me and my choices.

So after a while, I put my shirt back on, pulled my shoes and socks back onto my feet, and stood up and continued walking away from the life that I so desperately wanted to leave behind.


	4. Chapter 4

Shadow

"Why?" I asked myself in the darkness. My voice was angry and my thoughts were worse. I felt completely tormented by my own mind, trapped inside this body that was fueled by guilt and reliving taboo memories. "Why can't I fucking go to sleep?"

I groaned, flipping over to look at the clock. My eyes filled with tears when I realized that it was already five thirty in the morning. I wanted not to be alone anymore. I was sick of living in the middle of my mind, being controlled by a stupid fear.

I knew it was stupid. When I wasn't in the presence of other people, I knew that being afraid of people was pointless, because it lead me to stay like I was, trapped in the dark labyrinth of my mind because when it really came down to it, I was all I really had.

I was sick of my room, but I had nowhere else to go. This was the reason I was always sending Travis to get me newspapers and a myriad of vibrantly colored paints. I was constantly repainting, moving furniture, doing whatever I could to make this all seem new and different than it had been since Travis first got famous and we moved here.

It was complete death when he first started touring since he was the only person in the world that I was able to calmly have a somewhat normal social relationship with. I always got physically sick while he was gone, sometimes enough for my parents to put me in the ICU at the hospital.

That was the place where I met another person that I thought I could trust, the one who gave me this stupid phobia in the first place.

The problem was, I only knew a few things about him.

He was tall and had dark hair that wasn't long, but for the part of town we lived in, it was. He liked to wear tight pants and band t-shirts and plain white v-necks. He was sweet for the most part, but he had a wild side. He'd been in for a drug overdose. He was almost dead when they stuck him in the ER, and wasn't much better when they moved him to where I was.

I watched him sleep for days, looking gaunt and just completely worn out. He's the first person that I've seen that looked completely exhausted while he slept. Everyone else just sleeps. But he… I can't even explain it.

He was beautiful when he smiled. He had one of those trademark smiles. The kind that no one can copy. You know, the kind that just pulls you in and makes you love them no matter who they are. They're just… captivating.

I shivered and rolled back away from the clock.

I shut my eyes and he was there, his name echoing in my head, the way he'd introduced himself to me. All nice and animated, though he must've felt like shit.

"John Cornelius O'Callaghan."

John Cornelius O'Callaghan.

John Ohh.

John.

My brother Travis' best friend.


	5. Chapter 5

John

I stumbled into my house late that night. Or I guess it was really early the next morning. I smelled like nicotine and all I wanted to do was go to sleep. I didn't turn on any lights as I went quietly down the hall to my room. The last thing I needed right now was my mom to come down here in her slippers and start screaming at me for breaking curfew.

I had my own place a while back, but once I got arrested, my parents made me give it back to the landlord and move back in with them. And for some reason, my friends were in agreement. I may not be responsible, but I'm responsible enough.

And maybe my house was a place I could get spun out without anyone wondering what I was doing or ever having to find out, but that was my safe-haven, and I hated my parents for taking that away from me. I could finally be alone there, just listen to the silence in the world. And I needed that. I needed that freedom to be able to function right when I got back in the real world. And as I rebelled, I took more drugs than I was used to handling. And I ended up in the ER.

I wasn't supposed to live.

I've never felt that awful in my entire life. Coming down from anything just plain sucks. It hurts, and you're sick, and you're scared. No one can do anything about it, and no one wants to. Cause they don't care. They think it's better this way, that you get everything all straightened out and get back into your life. To them you're just a drug addict. Nothing else. You're just a criminal, a liar, a cheater, a stealer.

And it hurts. It hurts to be left like that, all by yourself.

In the hospital, no one comes to see you. When you're at home, your parents leave you so you can have the 'space' you said you always wanted. You told your parents it was all their fault, that they ruined your life by letting you live like this.

I know it was all my fault, though; Mom and Dad never forced me to take drugs, as much as I wished I could place the blame on them. I couldn't, and I knew it.

But it was the one thing I could talk and talk and talk about in therapy, never running out of stories to tell about bad things that had happened and the ways that my parents had handled it wrong.

When I first got home, I liked the freedom. Hell, when I first started _therapy_ I liked it. I could talk about all the things that pissed me off freely, as much as I wanted. And when I got angry, the therapists got excited. I was finally 'working through my problems'. Or so they thought.

I was just mad, getting madder. And with me, anger is never good. Anger leads to violence.

Like with Shadow. Violence.

But I won't go there. Not now, not yet. You've only just met me, the real me. It's too early for you to know about all of this.

As I thought all of this, I was laying awake in my bed, exhausted but unable to fall asleep. Ugh.

Welcome to the world of insomnia. 

Let me know if you want me to continue. Otherwise this is over, cause I don't seem to be getting much feedback, and that usually means people aren't interested. :) Thank you!


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